


Between the Letters

by ferociousqueak



Series: Allistair Shepard [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferociousqueak/pseuds/ferociousqueak
Summary: These chapters are standalones and fill in the the cavities left by Family Resemblance. I'll try to keep them in chronological order, but I can't promise anything.





	1. Pochemuchka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Russian) a person who asks too many questions

Despite her small size and huffing and puffing, Odessus didn’t seem much deterred in keeping pace with her cousin up the mountain trail. Her seemingly endless list of youthful questions must’ve been the fuel she needed to match Sana’s adult strides under the deep shade of the many-colored deciduous trees surrounding them.

“Cousin, why are asari blue?” she asked in her high, childish trill.

Sana grinned. “How familiar are you with asari blood composition, how an epidermis works, and genetic variation?”

Her counter question made the juvenile pause, but only briefly. She readjusted the pack on her back to cover her confusion and took a few quick, bouncing steps to catch up again.

“Don’t be stupid, Odessissi,” Hadrian snapped from the other side of Sana. “Blood is blue. That’s why their skin is blue too.”

“Don’t call me stupid!” Odessus did her best to growl, but it came out too high to sound at all threatening. “Is that right, Cousin Sana? Why aren’t turians blue if that’s true?”

“She has skin, that’s why!” Hadrian attempted to explain again. “You can’t see our blood through our plates.”

Odessus turned a pleading look toward Sana, who only shook her head. “That is an understandable conjecture, Hadrian. A wrong one, but still understandable. Asking curious questions is the first step in drawing accurate conclusions.”

“What’s a _conjecture_?” Odessus asked, already moving on to her next question.

“Spirits, Odessissi!” Hadrian groaned his irritation. “Stop talking so much! It’s annoying.”

“Stop calling me Odessissi, Hadrian!” she snapped, readjusting her pack again, but more angrily this time. “I’m not a fledgling, I’m nine! Don’t be such a cloaca!”

“Language, Odessus,” Sana warned her gently. “Put your mind at ease, Hadrian. Your sister is not annoying me. I am happy to answer any questions she has.”

“She’s annoying _me_ ,” Hadrian grumbled low but loud enough to be heard by both Sana and his sister.

Before Odessus could respond, Sana said in a louder volume than her normal speaking voice, “This is an excellent place to take a rest. It is important to drink enough water on a day as hot as today, especially when you are outside and active.”

A small covering with a table and benches stood about twenty meters off the trail, and Sana led Hadrian and Odessus to the picnic area while both of them continued to hiss wordless threats at each other. It was definitely time for lunch.

Sana let her pack slide off her shoulders and opened it to rummage for the food she’d prepared that morning. A nature hike wasn’t normally her idea of a fun and relaxing time, but their mother had begged her to take them for a few days while the primarch visited their household with a contingent of high-level advisors and ministers. If nothing else, the hike would tire them out enough to go to sleep at a decent hour and keep them entertained until that time came. Alas, Hadrian and Odessus found ways to antagonize each other regardless.

Both brother and sister grabbed eagerly at their food and hardly had it unwrapped before they bit into it. While they were distracted by their meals, Sana discreetly sat between them, wedging them apart. She suddenly felt how famished she also was and pulled apart bits of her own lunch to eat with a little more dignity than the two preadolescent turians in the middle of their first major growth spurts.

For a few brief moments, there was relative silence. Of course, the moment she turned and saw Odessus looking at her intently while she chewed her food, Sana knew the silence was not to last.

Before she could even invite Odessus to finish chewing her food, she barreled forward with yet another question. “What’s space like?” she asked, her small, amber eyes the definition of starry.

Sana suppressed a smile and considered the question. She chewed slowly, half testing the young turian’s patience and half wanting to give an appropriately sanitized account of what off-planet life was like. From her peripheral vision, she noticed Hadrian had also turned toward her, eager to hear her answer but trying not to show it.

When she sensed both Odessus and Hadrian were near the breaking point of their curiosity, she said, “It is a bit like this hike. Have you seen many people around?” Both brother and sister shook their heads. “If we walked for long enough, eventually we would run into someone, maybe a small town. If we walked for longer, we would run into even more people, maybe a city. But if we wanted to, we could stay out here by ourselves, and it would be a very long time before anyone found us.”

Odessus returned to her food and took another bite, but her attention seemed to turn inward. Both she and Hadrian would find out what space was like in only a handful of years when they started their service. Her curiosity—and Hadrian’s, even if he tried to hide it—was understandable.

When Odessus looked up again, it was the look of another question percolating in her mind. “Why don’t you have any colony markings?”

“What?” She hadn’t expected that question.

Odessus swallowed her food and asked again. “You’re a Ravaka, right? Or your dad was? So why don’t you have colony markings?”

Hadrian fired a piece of food past Sana and struck his sister directly in the mandible. “You’re not supposed to ask adults that question. Take it back or I’ll tell Mom.”

Sana held up a hand to stop any further squabbling. “That is enough, Hadrian. I do not mind answering her question.” She stopped and took another bite of her food, wondering how in the wide galaxy she was going to explain a decision she’d made as a maiden to never pick up a gun, not even for practice or proficiency. She sighed and took a chance. “When I was very young, both of my sisters were in the military, and both were killed when they were still maidens. I did not want to share their fate, and I decided I would never touch a gun. That decision barred me from the basic training it would have taken to complete my service. I could have gone through that training to get to a nonviolent profession for my service, but I did not want that. In the end, my integrity was more important to me than my citizenship.”

Both Hadrian and Odessus were quiet for a long time. They all finished their lunches and packed up again, ready to continue the hike, before Odessus spoke again.

“But you’re a doctor,” she said.

“Yes.”

“You save people.”

“Again, yes.”

“Shouldn’t that count? Shouldn’t that be enough to be a citizen?”

Sana shrugged. “To be honest, _ma’dulcissi_ , it is not something I think about anymore. I spent my maiden years fixing people, and that is enough satisfaction for me. It is a technicality I know will bar me from my citizenship, but I do not regret it. I can sleep soundly every night knowing no life has expired because I did them harm.”

Both Sana and Hadrian had walked a dozen paces before they realized Odessus had stopped. When Sana looked back, she saw Odessus standing there and gazing up at the sky as she clutched at the strap of her pack. It took a moment for her to realize Sana and Hadrian were waiting for her, and then she bounded toward them.

“Don’t worry, Cousin,” she said excitedly. “I think I know how to help. I just have to ask Mom a few questions first.”

Sana smiled and shook her head. There was no point in trying to dissuade her. She’d forget all about it by the time she went home in a few days, and in another fifty or one hundred years, she’d answer the same question from another young and curious Ravaka. The galaxy was always changing, but never that much.


	2. Packesel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (German) the person who’s stuck carrying everyone else’s bags on a trip

Hannah sat beneath her fighter puzzling over the intricate electrical system, nearly oblivious to the heavy Brazilian heat that somehow found its way even inside the hangar that housed her Rosie. Nearly. A tablet glowed beside her with the plane’s schematics, guiding her as she put the pieces of her bird together and took them apart again in her mind. She had disconnected some of the wiring, hoping to find a meaningful way to bypass—

“Should someone in your condition mess around with precision engineering like this? Very _expensive_ precision engineering, might I add?” Captain Tran’s voice sounded disapproving behind her, and she nearly banged her head on the hull of her fighter in surprise.

She suppressed a sigh and stood with a grunt. She gave a salute that he quickly returned and she reached for a rag to wipe off her hands.

“With all due respect, sir,” Hannah said, keeping her tone light to make it clear she meant no insubordination, “my condition is healthy as a horse. Dr. Almeida said so just last week.” Though, if she was being honest, her back really was killing her, especially bent under her fighter for probably longer than was advisable—she was going to pay for that later. “Besides, I made sure all the electrical components are inert.” A thrill of excitement went through her and she started to explain her plans. “I think I can make her faster and save fuel, sir. If I can find a way to connect the eezo core to the fuel systems, I think I can make her more efficient by—”

Captain Tran held up a hand to stop her flow of words and frowned. “Staff Lieutenant, you were supposed to leave here two hours ago. Any tinkering you want to do on your interceptor will have to wait until after you return to your post after the end of your leave.”

 _Two hours ago?_ Hannah bit back a swear. She was supposed to be at the airport in half an hour, which meant she wouldn’t be able to go to the market or put the dishes away or put on the dress she’d bought for the express purpose of picking up her mother. She frowned and went back to her fighter, quickly putting panels back into place and tools in their proper containers—

“Don’t worry about that, Shepard,” Captain Tran said from behind her. “I’ll have someone take care of everything.” Hannah stood straight again and turned toward her commanding officer. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he tilted his head over his should. “Go on. That’s an order.”

Hannah smiled weakly and nodded. She saluted and, being dismissed, started to walk toward the hangar’s exit. She stopped short when Tran called her name again. When she turned, he brushed a finger across his cheek, and she rubbed the back of her hand over her own cheek. Dust from her fighter’s eezo core, smudged with salt and sweat, came away with her hand, and she sighed. Of course she’d be filthy when she picked up her mother too.

She had just enough time to change into her civvies, splash water on her face and neck in the locker room, and hail a skycar to the airport. Her foot had barely hit the pavement when she saw her mother appear at the terminal exit with some poor teenager pushing a trolley of her precariously balanced tower of luggage behind her. Her mother’s sharp green eyes found her immediately, as if being a soon-to-be grandmother had imbued her with some kind of homing beacon that could find Hannah even in the rushing crowd of travelers that filled the sidewalk. Or maybe it was just Hannah’s size that made her easy to see.

Her mother waved to her, but not too vigorously. No doubt, she wished to preserve her perfectly pressed, navy blue suit and carefully manicured exterior of aloof grace. Only Emily MacLeod could fly from Vancouver to Rio and step off the plane without a hair or a seam out of place. Happiness and nervousness swirled within Hannah, but she smiled and threw her arms wide as her mother approached.

“Oh, Hannah Banana!” her mother exclaimed as she wrapped Hannah in a gentle hug. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart. And look at that belly!”

Hannah winced at the nickname and wondered if noticing her stomach was a genuine expression of delight or a veiled criticism—with Mother it could be either—but she decided to let both go. If Mother was going to be with her for several months, it was probably better not to start with arguments, even little ones.

“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” she said and turned toward the teenager pushing the luggage cart.

“Oh no, no, please, I’ll take care of this,” Mother said and slipped the teenager a credit chit. “Michael should be able to handle loading a skycar, yes?” She looked around Hannah as if maybe he’d been hiding behind her. “Where is he, dear?”

 _No arguments, no arguments, no arguments._ Hannah took a deep breath and said, “He got called out on a mission.” Her mother’s eyebrow immediately arched in open disapproval and _no arguments, no arguments, no arguments_. “It’s his job, Mom. And he won’t be gone long. There’s just an eezo shipment that needs security detail. His CO knows his parental leave is coming up and wouldn’t have assigned him if it wasn’t important.”

Hannah turned to the stack of luggage and reached for the top bag, but her mother slapped her wrist.

“You’re carrying quite enough already, Hannah,” she said, her voice stern and full of the kind of command that could make any NCO stand straighter. She turned and snapped her fingers, calling back the teenager she’d already dismissed.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Mom. I’m not made of porcelain.”

Her mother _tsk_ ’d audibly and shook her head. “I imagine you tell those awful military types the same thing, and they just let you do whatever you want.” Hannah sighed internally. _No arguments, no arguments, no arguments._ “What do they know about pregnancy? For goodness sake, your commanding officer, this Captain Chan as you call him, he should have ordered you to start your parental leave weeks ago.”

As the teenager loaded the skycar, Hannah eased herself back into her seat and hoped the grunt covered yet another exasperated sigh that her mother had managed to draw from her in only a few minutes. “It’s Tran, Mom. And he practically had to drag me away from my work. Believe it or not, the Alliance is pretty family friendly. Fully paid parental leave, birthing coaches, regular checkups with a medical officer at no charge, daycare services for children who are old enough, parenting classes, a range of delivery options, including having a midwife—”

Her mother _tsk_ ’d again as she took a seat beside Hannah and handed the teenager another credit chit for his trouble. “Over my dead body will you give birth at home when there is a perfectly good hospital with a reliable morphine drip not ten minutes away.”

Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, Mother. I just meant it’s an option they offer.”

When her mother turned back to look at Hannah, her face softened. “I’m doing it again,” she said, a statement more than a question. “I’m sorry, dear. I promise I won’t try to control everything while I’m here.” She smiled weakly and shrugged, and for a moment, she looked smaller, almost contrite. “You know what they say about old habits.”

Hannah smiled warmly and leaned over to hug her mother. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. I’m glad you’re here to help me figure all this out.”

She leaned back in her seat and her mother looked both relieved and happy. “I’m glad to be here too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to meet little … have you chosen a name yet?”

Hannah nodded. “Allistair.”

Mother nodded. “A good Scottish name. Your grandparents will be happy about that.”

The ride back to Hannah’s assigned housing was brief, and Mother managed to fill every moment of it chattering about how Hannah’s father was spending more time in the garden these days and goodness he had a knack for jasmine and he could easily enter a gardening competition if he had half a mind to fill out an application before a deadline and speaking of which Hannah’s youngest brother, Aaron, had just been recognized by the dean of his college for his work in their anthropology department and who would have guessed he would already start to distinguish himself but then all her children had always found a way to outshine everyone else it was practically a family trait.

By the time they walked in the door, Hannah was relieved to have a reason to excuse herself, even if that reason was because she had small feet tapdancing on her bladder.

“Of course, dear,” Mother said and smiled at her. “Why don’t you have a lie down? I’ll get myself settled, and when you feel rested, we’ll have a bit of supper.”

Hannah took the invitation gladly and, smelling metal and rubber on herself as she walked down the hall, decided a shower was in order too. She could still feel the grime of the eezo from her fighter on her face and hands, and she’d be glad to be rid of it.

#

The warm, coral light of the setting sun streaming through her windows woke Hannah what felt like a day later. Really, she’d probably only slept for a couple of hours. She closed her eyes again and grimaced at the soreness in her lower back. After several deep breaths, she braced herself to heave herself off the bed. Once she was on her feet again, she pressed her palms into her back and stretched. This baby couldn’t come soon enough, as far as she was concerned. The next three weeks were going to be an ordeal.

An unfamiliar smell wafted through the door, and Hannah breathed deep. Something with peanuts? She walked down the hall and into the kitchen, where her mother sat turned away from her. Something that looked like chicken slowly boiled in a brown sauce over the stove, and Mother sat at the kitchen table bent over a glowing tablet.

“It smells good,” Hannah said and took a seat adjacent to Mother. “I can’t remember the last time something smelled good and not nauseating.”

Mother looked up and smiled, but a small frown quickly chased it away. “Really, Hannah. Does the Alliance not issue hairbrushes.”

She stood and went to her purse. While Mother was distracted, Hannah glanced at the tablet, whose screen was still activated. Pictures. The one on display now showed a young woman with bright red hair coiffed in the kind of curls that hadn’t been in fashion for a couple decades at least. She looked about as pregnant as Hannah felt.

“Is this you, Mom?” she asked.

She felt a brush start to pull at her hair and her mother’s fingers trailing after it. “It is,” she said. “I don’t suppose you could blame me for feeling a bit nostalgic.”

Hannah huffed a laugh. “I can’t imagine ever feeling nostalgic about having to pee every five minutes and not being able to fit in my shoes properly. It’ll be nice to drink coffee again, too.”

Mother tapped Hannah’s shoulder with the brush before continuing her work. “That stuff is bad for your teeth and your nerves. If you want my opinion, that’s a bad habit you should leave well enough alone.”

Apparently satisfied with her work, she returned the brush to her purse and checked on the chicken cooking on the stove. Hannah pulled the album closer to her so that she didn’t have to look at the pictures upside down. As she swiped through the images, she started to recognize more of them. Herself as a baby, her brothers as babies, first days of school, different houses they’d lived in throughout her childhood.

Hannah chewed on her lower lip. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Did you ever regret any of it?” Hannah asked and winced at her own words.

Seemingly satisfied with the progress of the food, she returned to the table and moved her chair closer to Hannah so that they could both look through the pictures. “Regret any of what?”

“Well,” Hannah started even though she wasn’t exactly sure how she wanted to say it. “Dad’s job moved us around so much, and you never really got to do anything except stay home and take care of us. Didn’t you ever want to do something else?”

“Not for a minute,” her mother said without hesitation. “Your father and I knew what we were doing with you kids. Well, maybe not entirely. No parent ever does, really. But we knew what we wanted. We worked together to make a life we thought we could be proud of. And we were lucky. He worked hard to make sure I could stay with you three while you were young.”

A wave of panic crashed over Hannah, and the tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “Oh god, I’m going to be a horrible mother!”

To Hannah’s surprise, her mother laughed outright. “What’s funny?” Hannah sobbed and sniffed at the same time. “I’m going to fuck up my own kid, Mom! How can I be there for her when I’m working? And what if the Alliance won’t let me out of my commission? Mother, this is serious!”

“Language, dear,” she said, though there was more amusement than sternness in her voice. She took Hannah’s hand in both of her and squeezed. “Listen to me, Hannah Amelia. You are going to be a wonderful mother. You are also going to make mistakes, and the two aren’t mutually exclusive. No matter how careful you are, some things will be out of your control.” She moved an arm around Hannah’s shoulders and rested her chin on the top of Hannah’s head. “You don’t have to be the same kind of parent I was. Am. What’s important is that you love Allistair. Pay attention to her. Listen to the things she says without words. She’ll tell you what she needs. The rest is just figuring out how to give her what she needs. Easy.”

Hannah sniffed and wiped away the tears on her sleeve. “Are you sure? I’m not making some horrible mistake by planning on sending her to daycare when I go to work?”

Her mother chuckled and patted Hannah’s hair. “Of course not, Hannah Banana. You’re a smart woman. You’ll figure out a way to make it work.” A pregnant pause fell between them, and Hannah held her breath, hoping Mother didn’t say what she thought she might. “You’ll need help, though. And with Michael’s work—”

Hannah sat up straight again and sniffed one more time to clear her sinuses. “Mother.”

“Don’t _mother_ me, Hannah. He’s not even here now,” her mother persisted. “His line of work takes him away from you with hardly a moment’s notice. Allistair is going to need both of you, and if he’s off fighting on some colony somewhere, you’ll be the one carrying his weight at home.”

Hannah shook her head. “That’s just not true, Mom. Once he’s done with ICT, he’ll have his pick of missions. He’ll have the best assignments and the best resources at his disposal. No more last-minute, crap assignments. And the Alliance will post us together, no questions asked. I promise, being an N7 will free him up a lot so that he can be here with us.”

Her mother held Hannah’s gaze steady before continuing. “You would know better than I would, dear. I promise not to bring it up again. I just wanted to make sure—”

“Han, I’m home!” Michael’s voice floated into the kitchen from the entrance, and surprise and relief flooded through Hannah.

Michael appeared around the corner and dropped the bag slung around his shoulder, a bright smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Hannah would have tried to stand, but at that moment her back complained just enough to keep her seated. Without missing a beat, he strode forward and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Bautista tapped me out so I could come home a few days early,” he explained before she could even work up a greeting. “I couldn’t stand the thought you might go into labor before I got home. Hi, Emily. Glad you got here safe and sound. Something smells delicious!”

He walked toward the stove and took out a spoon to taste the sauce. While he was distracted by the food, Hannah twitched an eyebrow in her mother’s direction to say see? Mother tilted her head in concession, and stood to join Michael at the stove.

“It’s my own recipe,” she said, as if the conversation they’d been having had never happened. “My mother made it for me when I was pregnant with Hannah, and now I’m making it for her.”

Hannah waited for the clipped tone Mother usually used with Michael, but it never came. Instead, she was warm and congenial, and the knot in Hannah’s stomach began to untie itself.

She passed a hand over her stomach and felt a small fist bump into her palm. Mom was right. Everything was going to be fine. Maybe not what she had pictured for herself even a year ago, but it would still be fine.


End file.
